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CHAPTER 51: The Opening Competition
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 15:59:52 +0000 UTCThe morning sun did little to burn away the gloom clinging to Ethan Atherton. He trudged along the pavement, the strap of his school bag digging into a shoulder that felt heavy with the premature death of summer.
“And so, the nightmare begins,” he groaned, kicking a loose pebble that skittered across the concrete. “Felt like I blinked and the whole vacation was gone.”
A warm, melodic laugh came from his right. “That’s because every day was an adventure,” Seraphina Linley said, her own bag perched lightly on her shoulders, her step energetic. “Between training, channeling Aura, and that little side-quest into the Shadowfen ruins, our days were packed. Time flies when you’re actually living it.”
Marcus Vance, walking on Ethan’s other side, nodded, his muscular frame a testament to their summer’s efforts. “She’s right. We leveled up, big time.” A shadow of frustration crossed his face. “Still, it’s a pity. I was so sure I’d break through to Rank Two. To end the summer at Rank One, Level Ten… it feels like stopping on the last step of a staircase.”
A shared sigh of solidarity passed between him and Ethan. “Tell me about it,” Ethan said. “I’m right there with you, staring at the ceiling of Rank One.” He kept the rest of the thought to himself. His aunt’s visit, while welcome, had cut his intensive training schedule short. The resources to break through to Rank Two were sitting in his inventory, but the final, delicate process of shattering a Rank barrier couldn’t be rushed.
Seraphina gave them a wry look. “Oh, you two and your near-breakthroughs. Try being stuck at a humble Level Nine. What am I supposed to do, cry?”
Marcus managed a slight grin. “It’s not about the level, it’s about the goal. We just fell short, you know?” He shifted topics, his curiosity piqued. “Speaking of which, Ethan, did your aunt head back to Pinnacle University?”
“Yeah, a week ago,” Ethan confirmed. “Their summer break is a whole month shorter than ours. She was barely home for twenty days before the grind called her back.”
“So, you hit Level Ten,” Seraphina said, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest. “Did you unlock a new form?”
Ethan hesitated, the motion barely perceptible as he adjusted his bag. “I did. But… it’s a strange one. It’s incredibly powerful and incredibly weak, all at the same time.”
Marcus frowned, intrigued. “What’s that supposed to mean? That makes no sense.”
“It means,” Ethan began, picturing the tiny, green, frog-like creature in his mind, “that in a straight-up fight, anything stronger than a stray cat could probably flatten him into a pancake.”
He didn’t need to tell them the alien’s name was Grey Matter, or that his race, the Galvan, were physically frail but possessed a staggering, universe-altering intellect. He didn’t need to mention that the Omnitrix itself, the source of his power, was a Galvan invention. Instead, he gave them the practical summary.
“But his brain…” Ethan tapped his temple. “His intelligence is off the charts. He can look at any piece of tech, understand it instantly, and then either break it or make it better from the inside.” He thought of the last week: his mother’s busted e-scooter, now humming with triple its original efficiency; the household appliances he’d secretly supercharged. “His real power isn’t in combat.”
Seraphina’s expression was thoughtful. “Don’t underestimate that, Ethan. That’s not a weakness, that’s a specialty. In our world, combat power isn’t just about psionics. Advanced weaponry is just as critical. When a beast tide hits, what stands between the city and annihilation? The defense base’s railguns and plasma cannons.” She leaned in slightly, her voice full of conviction. “The Global Concord pours billions of credits into psionic weapon R&D every year. If your form can genuinely upgrade existing technology… submitting that kind of innovation could earn you more money and prestige than winning a dozen tournaments.”
Ethan mulled it over. She was right. Grey Matter might not be a frontline fighter, but he could be an unparalleled engineer, a one-alien R&D department. He could still make a difference.
Seeing the lingering back-to-school apathy on the boys’ faces, Seraphina clapped her hands together once, a sharp, cheerful sound. “Alright, enough moping! New semester, new challenges. Let’s look alive!” A mischievous twinkle entered her eyes. “Besides, I have news that might just cheer you up. School custom dictates a trial competition on the first day to gauge everyone’s summer progress. The rewards for the top ranks are always generous.” She paused for dramatic effect. “I heard the grand prize this year is an Aura Core.”
The listless slump in Ethan’s shoulders vanished. He straightened, a sudden, hungry glint in his eyes that chased away all traces of gloom. “An Aura Core?” The words were a reverent whisper. It was a high-grade, priceless training resource. He already had one, but who would ever complain about having two?
Marcus tried to play it cool, folding his brawny arms, but a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. “Three, actually,” he corrected her smoothly, the excitement in his voice betraying his calm posture. “The school always gives one to each of the top three finishers in the third-year opening tournament. For a high-school-level competition, that’s a king’s ransom.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “Three? Is your intel solid? How come I’m the last to know everything?”
Seraphina rolled her eyes with practiced exasperation. “Because it was posted on the school’s official website two weeks ago, and Mr. Gordon sent three reminders in the class group chat. Maybe if you ever checked your notifications?”
Ethan had the good grace to look sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. The class chat icon on his phone had long since morphed into the dreaded “…” of unread messages. He’d muted it on the second day of vacation.
Marcus clapped him on the back, a solid, reassuring thud. “Doesn’t matter. With your strength, you don’t need to prep. You’re a shoo-in for the top three.”
“No,” Ethan said, his expression turning serious. “I can’t risk exposing the secret of multiple forms. Not yet.” The unspoken threat of the Evolution Cult, the fanatical lunatics who hunted those with unique abilities, hung in the air between them. “I’m only using one form for this competition.”
“But switching forms is your greatest advantage,” Seraphina said, a line of concern creasing her brow. “You’d be fighting with one hand tied behind your back.”
“It’s a hand I can’t afford to show,” Ethan replied grimly.
“Then which form are you picking?” Marcus asked.
A flicker of hope crossed Ethan’s face. “Is it a team event?”
Seraphina shook her head. “Sorry. The rules are strict: one-on-one elimination bracket. On the tournament floor, we’re all opponents.”
A sly grin spread across Ethan’s face. “In that case, I’m not telling you.”
“Cunning bastard,” Marcus grumbled, though he was smiling.
“Hey, what if you’re my first-round draw?” Ethan chuckled. “I need to keep the element of surprise. It’s a valid tactic.”
“He’s not wrong,” Seraphina conceded with a laugh.
“Can we use weapons?” Ethan asked, a new thought occurring to him.
“Standard-issue school training weapons only,” Seraphina confirmed. “Unsharpened blades, blunted tips. They’re designed for safety. You might get a few bruises, but you won’t die.”
Ethan sighed dramatically. “A real pity. If it were a team battle, I’d use Upgrade to juice your gear and we’d walk away with all three cores. Now, I have to do it the hard way.”
Marcus cracked his knuckles, the sound like popping gravel. “Good. We haven’t had a real spar since we trained with my uncle. I want to see what a Rank One, Level Ten monster really looks like up close.”
Ethan met his friend’s challenge with a confident smirk. “Then you’d better bring a mouthguard, Marcus. I’m not paying to fix your jaw when you dislocate it from shock.”
